


(Save Me From) The Way I Tend To Be

by NahaFlowers



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Know No Shame, M/M, happy london times, they're so young and soft and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 18:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11191182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahaFlowers/pseuds/NahaFlowers
Summary: Written for the prompt '“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”'Crossposted on Tumblr.James can't shake the shame society says he is supposed to feel in a relationship with another man. Thomas has a gift that will change his mind.





	(Save Me From) The Way I Tend To Be

They are in Thomas’s office. Thomas had kissed him chastely in greeting but both of them know they have work to do. This – whatever this is between them, that which had seen James storming out late the night before with tears in his eyes, although he wasn’t sure why – can wait until later.

Love, is what Thomas had called it, and something had twinged in recognition, deep in his soul. But how could this be love, James thought. This was debasement, pure and simple; a mockery of all that was right and good and proper in society, in Christianity, in all that he had ever learned or been taught since he was a boy. He told Thomas so, though his stomach churned and his heart protested in the strongest of terms. Thomas’s mouth had twisted and he had swallowed a lump in his throat, looking like he wanted to say something. But his mouth opened and closed like a fish, and he merely sighed and turned away. 

And so James had left, the grief roaring in his ears deafening him to Thomas’s protests and pleas to come back as he strode out of the room. Tears had pricked at his eyes but he had refused to cry proper until he was safely ensconced in his rented room.

And now, here they are, and the day’s work is done. James stands to leave, and Thomas’s eyes flicker to him, panicked.

“Where are you going?” Thomas asks, too quickly, and James can see the other man berating himself internally.

James shrugs uncomfortably. “I ought to leave,” he says, but he can’t leave it there, not with Thomas’s eyes gazing at James so forlornly. “I’m sorry about last night, my Lord,” he adds finally, slipping into the safety of formality.

Thomas shakes his head, biting his lip. “Don’t be,” he says, voice unsteady. “And please stay,” he says pleasantly, regaining control of himself, although he is unable to keep the yearning out of his voice. “I have something to give to you.”

In spite of himself, James nearly smiles. “A gift? I’m sure I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a thing.”

Thomas catches his eye in amusement for a second, but then his expression turns serious.

“Close your eyes,” is all he says, and James obeys. “And hold out your hands,” he adds after a minute of fumbling in his desk.

James feels something heavy placed in his outstretched palms, and ascertains that it is a book. He can hear the smile in Thomas’s voice when he tells him to open his eyes.

It is _Meditations_. James looks at Thomas, confused. It is one of their favourites, a book Thomas has read aloud from to both him and Miranda in bed, one shared between the three of them – but he cannot think what Thomas is giving it to him for. James panics for a moment. Perhaps it’s his way of saying goodbye?

“Open it,” Thomas says, and his gaze and tone are both soft and warm as honey, and James calms.

He opens the cover and sees that the previously blank flyleaf now bears an inscription upon it. It reads:

_James,_

_My truest love,_

_Know no shame_

_\- T. H._

James looks back up at Thomas with tears in his eyes, and sees the wetness in Thomas’s own. He finds he cannot speak past the lump in his throat.

“After you left last night,” Thomas speaks slowly, his voice croaking on every other word, “I realised. James,” he says, and he moves around the desk, taking James’s face in his hands. He strokes a thumb along his jaw, and James feels his breath catch and his pulse flutter at his neck, when Thomas’s thumb meets it there. “There is no shame in love.” His voice is earnest and filled with conviction, but so soft and low that it is like a whisper of wind, the barely-there breeze that brings relief on a sweltering summer’s day.

“What of- society,” says James, breathless, although truly he does not know why he is arguing – the sincerity of Thomas’s words, both written and spoken, has blown his doubts clean away.

He thinks Thomas knows this, for he cocks a crooked smile at James when he says “Society can go hang itself, for all I care.” James smiles back and it is a glorious, carefree thing as he dares to gaze straight back into the intensity of Thomas’s eyes.

“And what of God?” asks James, and this startles a chuckle out of Thomas, for he knows he is teasing now.

“If God would condemn what I feel for you, what we feel for each other…” Thomas’s voice raises slightly in question and James nods imperceptibly, “then he is no God of mine.” He takes a deep breath. “And what I feel for you is love, James.”

“The truest love,” James agrees, smiling, hard but not brittle; it is merely that his smile is too big to be contained on his face.

Thomas kisses him then, long and hard, and although he has kissed Thomas many times, and every one of them has been the sweetest kiss of his life, this one is the truest kiss.

 

When they are lying on Thomas’s bed later, _Meditations_ open next to them, James frowns and says, “You know, I may not always be able to stay true to that,” he says, nodding at the book. “When I’m with you, it’s easy – it’s almost laughable that I could feel otherwise…” Thomas smiles at that. “But when I’m away from you…” He trails off, looking moodily into the distance.

Thomas’s arms come around him and he kisses James’s jawline, feeling him relax in his arms. “I know,” says Thomas seriously. “That’s why I wrote it. So that when we are apart, and you feel shame wrapping its tendrils around you – you can be reminded that there is none.”

James breathes a sigh, of relief and contentment, and turns in Thomas’s arms. “Thank you,” he says, heartfelt, and plants a kiss on Thomas’s lips. Thomas smiles, the sun made flesh, and leans them back so they are lying down again, James’s head on his chest. They fall asleep like that, tangled together, and for a while their world is soft and kind and possible.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist using this prompt to write my take on James receiving/reading the inscription in _Meditations_. Hope you enjoyed! Comments are love.


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